The Moment
by mabelreid
Summary: One Shot REID/EMILY Some moments were never meant to happen and some moments were meant to last forver. This is my take on what might have happened between Emily and Reid that so upset him after her "death"


**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n this is dedicated to lolyncut and spemilyfan... thank you both for your continued support of this ship and my work. You're the best._**

**_The Moment _**

Emily opened her eyes to the late February darkness and a warm room. She turned over in an unfamiliar bed and reached for someone that wasn't there. "Spencer," she said in a crackly voice even though she knew he wasn't in the room. His presence didn't tug on her heart as it had every day they were in the same room over the last year.

She yawned and glanced at the clock with its bright red numbers. It read 5:37 am. She stretched and yawned again. The temptation to go back to sleep warred with her desire to see, touch, and taste Spencer again.

The lamplight blinded her when she switched it on. She sat up and surveyed the room she'd dreamed about seeing for months. The tidy room had a hard wood floor, and a battered old desk topped with textbooks, files and writing pads. On the floor were scattered their clothes. She grinned at her shirt, flung over the fancy, black leather office chair in front of his desk. It was the only new thing in the room. She remembered teasing him about his penchant for everything old except for the chair.

"_Why are you laughing?" He'd said irritably into her neck. _

"_Everything in this place looks like it was made before the nineteen eighties, except for that chair." She pointed out as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. _

"_It's my desk. I like to be comfortable when I'm studying." _

_She kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry I laughed." _

"_How are you going to make it up to me?" He asked, his tone serious, but his eyes were dancing. _

_She reached down and lowered the zipper on his slacks. "Hmm, I can think of several ways to make it up to you." _

_She grinned when pink rushed into his cheeks. His innocence charmed her more because of the nature of their lives, then anything else about him. How he could stay so naïve when they waded through blood almost every day? _

_He surprised her again by taking her by the shoulders and pushing her over to the bed. "Spencer…"_

"_Shh… Don't say anything." _

"_But I-" _

"_No."_

_He covered her mouth with his, in a soft kiss that was as warm as freshly baked bread in winter. It lasted until she was so breathless, her legs began to tremble. _

_She tried to speak again, to say all the things she'd wanted to say for so long, but he put a finger to her lips and shook his head. "No talking." He repeated. "I'm done with talking." He lowered her to the bed and suddenly the need for words didn't seem that important. _

Emily picked up his shirt and held it up to her face. She breathed in deep of Spencer's unique scent. It reminded her of all the things in her life that were good. When she was with him, she didn't have to think about anything that was wrong in her life.

She buttoned on the shirt and looked around Spencer's room with books stacked around the floor and standing in three different bookcase lined up against the walls. The books hadn't surprised her. She'd expected there to be many books. He also had a beautifully carved, rosewood nightstand with a photograph of his mother when she was a very young woman with long, wavy blond hair and a smile inside a gilded frame. She walked over and picked up the photograph. "Thank you for him." She said quietly.

Then she went out to the living room to find Spencer.

* * *

><p>Spencer was in the living room sitting on the bench in front of his new keyboard. He wasn't playing and she could see that something was bothering him.<p>

"Hey."

He looked up at her in the light of the lamp that splashed golden light across his face. His dark eyes were tired and there was pain in them.

"How's your headache?" She asked as she sat down next to him and wound an arm around his shoulders.

He let her hold him, and then he sat up and pulled away. "It's still there."

"What can I do?"

He turned to touch her face. "There's nothing you can do."

She wanted to argue, but knew that he'd just say if the doctors couldn't help him, then neither could she help him. "Why don't you come back to bed? It's too early to be up."

"I can't sleep." He said.

He got up and walked to the couch. He stood there looking at the battered furniture as though he'd never seen it before that moment. He looked back her sitting there staring at him. She tried to smile, but he wasn't smiling back.

"I was thinking about us." He said.

"Spencer, I think -"

He walked to the far wall and leaned against it, next to another ornately carved rosewood table that served as an entryway table and held his messenger bag, and keys, which sat in a red ceramic bowl.

"Do you know that moment?" He said suddenly, confusing her with his question.

"I don't know what you mean."

She got up from the bench and walked to him. He didn't flinch away when she reached for him and pulled him into his arms. "Tell me what you're thinking." She said into his shoulder.

"You know that moment?" He asked again.

She shook her head and tangled her hand in his hair. "Tell me."

"That moment in the early morning, when the air is so cool and crisp you can snap it like a tree twig in your fingers." He explained, his hands making a breaking motion. "When you're up early on a weekend and you got out for a walk, or to do some errand, and no one else is around. You can stand outside in the dark, in the middle of the city and it's so quiet you can hear the beat of your heart in your chest."

She smiled and nodded as she played with his hair. "Yeah… I know what you mean. It's like you're the only one in the world for just a few minutes."

"There's no sight or sound of traffic even though you're standing feet away from a major city street and you wonder," his voice dropped to almost a whisper. "You wonder if something happened in the night to take everyone away and you're all alone. It's a frightening feeling for a few seconds, to feel that alone in the dark and the cold. Then you take a step and the world catches up with you. A car flies by on the street and suddenly you see another person or hear them walking toward you and the world is occupied again."

She frowned and her fingers stopped their dance in his hair as she gazed into his arresting eyes.

"You suddenly realize that you're not alone but that fear doesn't go away so easily. Once it's lodged in your heart." He touched his chest. "You just want to run back to your safe place and hide away until that next perfect moment of silence, even if it ends with fear, starting the cycle over again, an endless cycle that you cling to despite…" He suddenly broke off and pushed her away.

"I'm sorry Emily. We made a mistake tonight. I think it's better if you leave."

She went numb, unable to move. He went to the bench next to his keyboard and didn't meet her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

It was the only thing she could think of to say because suddenly her heart felt like it was ripping in two. She swallowed hard against the tears that jumped up into her eyes and throat.

"It was a mistake." Reid said again after staring at her for long moments, his dark eyes blank. "You're hiding something from all of us. You refuse to trust us or let us help you."

"I do trust you." Emily began.

"No you don't," He argued getting to his feet again. "Somewhere along the way I fell hard for you. I didn't want to, but I did, and now something is going on with you and you won't tell me. I thought we were friends."

"We are friends." She hedged.

The temptation to spill it all, to tell him all about Ian Doyle almost overwhelmed her desire to protect him. Now, it was different, because they'd finally given into the desires that had been between them for months. She'd wanted comfort after Ian threatened all of them. She'd tried to stay away, but she couldn't do it and now he was saying it was a mistake.

"I can't handle this." He was saying. "It's too much."

"Spencer, please don't say -"

"Will you please just go home? I don't think we should see each other again."

"I'm not going anywhere." She went to him and tried to take his hand.

"I told you to leave. I cannot love you if I don't trust you. I shouldn't have let you seduce me."

"Stop it!" She shouted at him. "I didn't seduce you."

"Yes you did," He argued in that same emotionless voice. "You show up on my doorstep, upset and unwilling to talk to me. I felt sorry for you. I didn't listen to that part of me that warned me against giving in to you because I wanted you so badly. Did you know that I used to dream every night I wasn't having a nightmare, about this very thing? I dreamed about making love to you in this very apartment and hearing you say you loved me."

"Spencer, I do love you."

"I trusted you enough to tell you about my headaches, but you won't tell me what's bothering you." He went on as if she hadn't spoken.

"I can't, it's nothing you need to know anyway."

His eyes lifted to her face and they were ablaze with rage. "I think you should leave." He ordered.

"Fine! I'll leave you alone." She snapped.

* * *

><p>He stood over the headstone in sunlight that was garish instead of comforting. If only he'd known this was going to happen. He wouldn't have pushed her away like that. The grass squeaked a little as he hunched down to lay two pink carnations at the base of the stone.<p>

"I 'm sorry," he whispered. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

All he'd ever wanted from her was to be loved and trusted. Now he knew she'd thought she'd had to push all of them away to save them from Ian Doyle. Why hadn't she just told them? All of them together could have stopped Doyle and she'd still be alive.

Tears dripped from his face and fell on the green and yellow grass of spring. The wind shifted his hair and it was warmer than he wanted. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stood up. He couldn't make his feet take him away even though rage and grief tried to pull him away with their logic that she hadn't really cared for him and now he'd never know for sure.

The cemetery was quiet that morning. No one was there on an afternoon workday except for the workman that looked after the place. There was no one there to hear him talk to her; even so, it didn't bother him if anyone did.

"What am I supposed to do now?" He asked her. "Why didn't you trust me?"

The breeze picked up a little ruffling the petals on the carnations as he stared down at her headstone. The flowers would fade in time he thought, but would his love fade or would it haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I just wanted to love you." He said. "Why couldn't you just let me love you?"

He listened with all his heart and soul for her voice to tell him everything would be all right, but all he heard was the soft sigh of the wind and the sound of a mower in the distance.


End file.
